


He Doesn't Have to Know

by bloodontheground



Category: Den of Thieves (2018)
Genre: AU, F/M, den of thieves au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-07-15 00:09:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16051427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodontheground/pseuds/bloodontheground
Summary: A chance meeting at a gala leads to a series of illicit encounters. But he doesn’t have to know...





	1. Portrait of a Marriage

 

  
_"Exotic bird in a gilded cage."_

* * *

 

 

Fourteen years. Fourteen years since the rings had been on her finger. Statement pieces by virtue of their size and flashiness alone, the cushion-cut 4 carat diamond in her engagement ring was forever getting snagged in her clothing, and the wedding ring--encrusted with several smaller diamonds all of great clarity--was just as bad. Though the rings had stood the test of time, they’d long lost their luster in her eyes. Gazing down at her manicured finger, Layla wished she could go one day without the accessories, but knew better than to do so, given how _important_ they were to Howard.

Howard Claymore, the man she’d married when she was just twenty and enamored with the idea of living in America, was a man whom most assumed on first-sight to be a used car salesman. Short, balding in the typical crescent-moon fashion, and forever trying to hide it with an unconvincing combover and tinted hairspray, he was in actuality a mildly successful senior financial analyst at one of New York City’s premier firms, Merrimen Coates and McLeod. MCM for short, the wealth management conglomerate had profited wildly after the last crash, investing smartly for their clients and keeping the books clean to ward off the SEC. They were positioned to become even more powerful with the acquisition of a smaller firm that was predominant throughout the Midwest and for the last several weeks, it was all Howard could talk about.

“This is gonna be huge for me. I’ve had nothing but good reviews, and Bill, well, Bill’s an idiot and he fucked up the Lockhart account last week, so he’s out for sure. Matty doesn’t know which way is up, and his numbers are all over the place. I’m pretty sure they’re gonna let him go on my recommendation...Anyway, just think about it. Corner office, next to Ray, not having to pull overtime on deadlines anymore. It’s gonna be great. Might even get that boat I’ve been looking at. I’m a shoe-in--Layla? Are you listening?”

Looking up from the symbol of her marriage, she put on her sweetest smile and nodded. “Yes, darling. I’m very excited for you,” she replied, picking up a blush brush to add a little more color to her left cheek, knowing she needed to look perfect for tonight’s gala. In her vanity mirror--a garish example of art deco that had belonged to Howard’s mother before her passing--she could see her husband staring at her, eyes narrowed. Policing her own expression into one of confusion, she looked back at his reflection, head tilted.

“I still don’t understand why you cut off your hair. You look like a prepubescent boy now. The curls only hide so much. You should go to Sandra and get her to put extensions in for the next gala. I hope you’re ready to be whispered about; Bill’s wife is an evil cunt and will start gossiping as soon as she sees you.”

Looking back down at her table full of makeup and hair products, she said nothing for a moment, knowing in that moment that the ride to the gala in the rented limo (something she was vehemently against) would be a silent one, as no matter what she said, it would end in a fight.

“I wanted a change,” Layla finally replied, her tone soft in the hopes he would drop the subject. Instead, she watched as he came closer, his belly jiggling in front of him with each step. The tug to her hair wasn’t unexpected, and she could smell the Cointreau on his breath in seconds as he pushed his face close to hers. “Extensions next time. So you can outshine the rest of the women there. What point is there in you being there, otherwise?”

Closing her eyes until she felt Howard relinquish her hair and step back into their walk-in closet, Layla focused on her breathing and reminded herself that her husband was under a lot of stress and that part of her duty as his wife was to present the best, most polished picture possible. Extensions for the next gala were feasible, albeit a waste of money; but what Howard wanted, Howard got.

Her rings heavy on her hand, she reached for the diamond necklace Howard had rented for her to wear that night, Layla having to admit that it paired beautifully with the Romona Keveža dress she’d chosen. The [ black, corseted, mermaid dress ](https://i.imgur.com/H43Sla4.jpg) was complemented by one draped sleeve, a train, and a strapless sweetheart neckline. As she fixed the hair Howard had tugged out of place, Layla tried to remind herself that the look was classic elegance and that no matter what happened behind closed doors, no matter how awful her hair looked, that she would still stand out in the crowd, still shine on Howard’s arm, and at the end of the day, that was all that mattered. At least for tonight...

Howard liked arriving _fashionably late_ , which really just meant buzzed, loud, and obnoxious. They’d thankfully missed the speeches, and with the party in full swing, they arrived to little notice, something Layla and her hair were immediately blamed for, Howard hissing under his breath as he tugged her towards the bar. Nearly spilling champagne on her dress as he shoved it in her hand, Howard drank his like a shot before heading off to presumably find his friends, and, Layla hoped, some carbs to soak up the alcohol.

Layla set the champagne back on the bar, apologizing to the bartender for her husband’s incorrect order, and asking for an Old Fashioned before turning her attention to the party. Across the ballroom she could see Howard trying to get in with the big boys, a group of five men all half-listening to whatever anecdote he was presenting, Howard laughing through his story, much to the chagrin of his bosses. Though they were all polite enough to stay and hear the story through to its completion, Layla could see that none of them were enjoying being cornered by one of their employees.

Bill’s wife, Rebecca was already openly staring at her, and Layla worried Howard’s words might come to fruition. Moving her gaze onwards before she could think too much on the subject, Layla watched as other couples danced to the DJ’s selections, the playlist expertly designed to keep the party from turning into a college kegger despite all the testosterone in the room.

When the bartender called her attention, she turned back with a gracious smile, tipping him before tucking the remainder of the petty cash she’d been given back into her clutch. Drink in hand, she began to move towards the tables, Layla hoping she wouldn’t have to look too hard to find the number her and Howard had been assigned to. As she approached 45, a table tucked into one corner of the ballroom, Layla found, to her dismay, that a couple was already in her and Howard’s seats, engrossed in conversation. Not one to actively start conversations with strangers, she turned on her heel and headed back towards the bar and the finger foods, knowing it would be a few hours before dinner was served and Howard could evacuate the couple from their seats.

Angling herself away from Rebecca and her cronies, Layla took a seat on a bar chair and crossed her legs elegantly before taking the first sip of her drink, feeling the warmth rush through her. It would be a long night, and she knew that as elevated as Howard looked that once home, he’d demand the one thing she hated giving him the most.

 

* * *

 

Howard Claymore was insufferable to Ray Merrimen, not only because he always smelled faintly of sweat and sebum, but because his _stories_ were atrocious. Always relating to either fishing, the account he was currently working on, or how horrid his wife was in bed, they all smacked of braggadociousness and a fantasy that was as far removed from real life as possible. The fact that he _was_ one of their best analysts made the situation all the more infuriating, as Ray would have personally fired him ages ago were it not for the number of accounts Howard had worked into fruition.

“ _Then she has the gall to look at me and say ‘I thought you were supposed to lick it like a lollipop!_ ’” Howard’s latest story about his wife barely registered with Ray as he looked around the ballroom, hoping to find more interesting conversation, preferably of the female variety. Though the women that worked for his company were all sharks in their own right, nearly all of them were happily married and those that weren’t were too intimidated by his status to make any type of meaningful conversation. As his eyes scanned his surroundings, they caught on a lone figure sitting by the bar. Sheathed head-to-toe in black, she looked as somber as she did beautiful, and stuck out not because of her fashion choices--which were timeless--but because of how much loneliness radiated off her.

Intrigued, Ray excused himself and straightened out the jacket of his printed Etro, stopping by the bar first to get a drink. Discreetly taking a peek at her from close range, he noticed, to his surprise, that she wasn’t holding a champagne flute like so many of the other women at the gala, but was instead nursing something more classic.

“Whiskey, neat.” He asked the bartender, already sliding the tip over as he waited for his drink to be poured. Once in hand, he casually made his way over, ducking his head a bit to meet her eyes. Even sitting on a bar chair, her eyeline was still below his, and Ray couldn’t help but smile, wondering what the difference would be if they were standing side by side.

“Please tell me your plus one didn’t ditch you for the sausage rolls,” he joked as a way in, Ray’s smile growing when the mystery woman flashed a grin of her own.

“Slightly better, I think? He’s with the bosses, trading stories.”

“I can’t help but wonder if he’s really got his priorities straight,” Ray said with a smirk as he extended his hand. “Ray Merrimen. Want some company until he decides to come back?”

Layla smiled genuinely for the first time all night, taking his hand and shaking it gently. “Layla Claymore. Nice to finally put a face to the name. My husband talks a lot about you. All good, for the record. He’s a very happy employee.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. So you’re the Layla I’ve heard so much about,” Ray responded, refraining from lying to her and saying he’d heard only glowing reviews, but also not wanting to out her husband for the reprobate he was, lest Layla be madly in love with him or something equally unbelievable. If Ray was judging from her expression prior to his arrival, he’d have called her downright miserable, through no fault of her own. After all, she had to put up with _Howard_ far more than he did during a regular 9-5.

“I’ve seen you around the office a few times. You bring him lunch sometimes, right? He’s a lucky man, having a wife who’ll drop everything to come bring him food,” Ray continued, taking a seat next to her and leaning back, his posture open and relaxed, something Layla noticed almost immediately as it was so different from Howard’s constant rigor-like state.

“Well, I’m a housewife, so it’s not like I’m in meetings or anything,” she offered with a slight shrug, the urge to tell Ray the truth compelling and strange all at once, Layla questioning why already it felt so easy to speak with a man she knew intimidated most around him.

“Exotic bird in a gilded cage,” Ray said softly, his eyes meeting hers, his tone making it clear he wasn’t disparaging her in any way, but instead sympathizing with her situation. He’d known many a pampered housewife over the years, but Layla was the first who seemed to genuinely not enjoy it.

“That obvious?” Layla laughed sadly, finishing off her drink. Ray promptly got to his feet, hand extended for her glass. “What’s your poison?” He asked, watching as she swirled the ice in the glass before meeting his gaze.

“Old Fashioned. Thank you,” she replied, her eyes following Ray as he ordered a second drink from the bar, Layla’s eyebrows going up in subtle surprise as she caught sight of the tip he was leaving the bartender. Men in Ray’s position usually tipped high only to show off their wealth, but in his case, it didn’t feel like an act of showmanship, but an almost automatic action, something he did every day. It was intriguing, to say the least. Generous CEO’s, especially in the financial sector, were rare breeds. It made Layla sit up and pay a little more attention to the man as he returned with her drink.

“There we go. Great choice, by the way. No one drinks the classics anymore, especially in these circles,” Ray circled his finger in the air, rolling his eyes a bit as he sat back down, his body turned to face her.

“So when you’re not running lunch downtown, what do you get up to?” He asked, Ray’s face kind and holding no judgment, something that flustered Layla almost immediately. It seemed like an eternity since anyone had asked her about her own life and not Howards, and it gave her pause for a moment, Layla scrambling for something--anything--interesting to say.

“Usual housewife activities aside,” she smirked, finally meeting his eyes, “I enjoy sketching at the park and going to the museums when I manage to send him out the door with lunch in-hand.”

“A lady of culture. I like that. Have you been to Delacroix at the Met yet?” Ray asked, taking a sip of his whiskey.

“No, not yet,” Layla replied with more enthusiasm than she’d had all night, her eyes all but lighting up at the mention of the French painter. “How was it?”

“Beautiful. Especially _The Duke of Orléans Showing his Lover_ ,” Ray answered, remembering the story behind the painting as one that had stuck with him afterward. Now, sitting in front of Layla, it almost felt like fate.

“That one’s so sad,” Layla agreed, “You know the marriage is bad when a husband doesn’t even recognize his own wife’s…” She trailed off, taking a gulp of her drink, realizing how apt the painting was to her own situation. Layla doubted Howard had ever even stopped to truly look at her nude. He’d had plenty of opportunities, especially when they were newlyweds, but Layla felt that if she were to replace the woman in the painting, Howard would be in the same position as the Duke of Burgundy.

Ray was silent for a moment, taking her in, admiring not only her beauty--which left him a little off-kilter--but her mind, knowing there were few people in the room that would know anything about French painters, let alone a specific painting. Pulling his lower lip back into his mouth, Ray weighed the consequences of the question that had been on the tip of his tongue all night. At worst, she would slap him, at best, it might get her to open up and relieve some of the burden that seemed to weigh her down.

“Layla, can I be honest with you?” He asked, watching her expression go from one of curiosity to confusion and back again. Taking the slight tilt of her head as an affirmative, he continued, “You caught my eye tonight, not just because you’re the most stunning woman in the room, but because you looked...Unhappy. _Not_ ,” he added quickly, “that you’re _required_ to be happy to be here. But it just…Considering you’re by yourself here while he’s over there trying to score a promotion. It just struck me as something deeper than a bad night. So, I gotta ask...Is he taking care of you? In all ways?” As he spoke, Ray found himself reaching to stroke her hand, his eyes never once leaving her own gaze, the contact only breaking when she looked up and away.

“I guess that’s why you’re the CEO, right? You’re almost _too_ good at reading people,” Layla finally answered with a mirthless laugh, her eyes telling Ray all he needed to know when she looked back at him.

“Now I _know_ he has his priorities skewed. He’s lucky you even give him the time of day.” Ray squeezed her hand, his expression serious but considerate, Layla feeling the room slow as she looked into the green orbs that were so intent, yet so calming at the same time.

“He...It’s complicated. We’ve been together a long time, and things…” Layla couldn’t bring herself to finish, her hand slowly turning under his, the contact electric. Anything she said beyond what had already been spoken would have been a lie or excuse, and for the first time in a long time, she refused to defend her marriage to someone showing genuine concern.

Ray nodded, not needing further explanation to understand the basics of what happened behind the doors of the brownstone Howard so often bragged about. It was a loveless marriage, perhaps one of convenience for one or both of them, and it was quickly decaying further if the look of absolute dependence on Layla’s face before they began to speak was any indication.

Before either of them could say another word, Ray spotted Howard making his way through the crowd. Gently parting the contact between them, he motioned with his eyes towards the dancefloor Layla’s husband was cutting through, stumbling and bumping into people as he went. Ray reached behind him to grab a napkin, and before Howard could reach them, scratched his number into it, sliding it into Layla’s clutch courtesy of a cutout in the side. With his eyes and body turning towards the approaching man, Ray put on a smile of amusement, Layla following his lead and doing the same.

“Having fun, darling?” She asked, receiving only a snort of derision in response, Howard’s full attention on Ray.

“Boss, can I get you another? The boys and I were wondering where you’d gone!” Howard asked cheerfully, Layla’s stomach sinking as she predicted the outcome of the night.

“I ran into your lovely wife while I was refilling my whiskey,” Ray said without missing a beat, lifting his still-full glass to indicate he didn’t need another. Howard nodded, finally sliding his eyes towards Layla, his gaze of alcohol-fueled lust unmistakable.

“Yeah, she’s a keeper, huh? Gorgeous, even though I miss her long hair, great ass, perky little--”

“I actually like the cut. Suits you, Layla,” Ray cut Howard off before he could continue to catalog his wife’s attributes like a hog caller at an auction, his eyes meeting hers before he gave her a discreet wink and a reassuring smile. “The dress is stunning too, by the way. Romona Keveža, right?”

Layla looked up as he stood, stunned that he knew the designer.

“I caught the spring collection before I went to London. That dress was my favorite,” he explained with a million dollar smile, Ray patting Howard’s shoulder as he made his exit.

“What a guy…” Howard mused, shaking his head. “Runs the damn company, travels all over the place and still has time for _fashion_.”

“Yeah, he’s really something,” Layla murmured in agreement, still caught up in the whirlwind that had been the last few minutes. The conversation, though brief, had been more interesting than any she’d ever had with Howard, and more than anything, it had left her wanting more. Still, she knew as she watched Howard ask for another champagne, that she was married and fundamentally, it would be wrong to pursue the itch Ray had left her wanting to scratch; no matter how charming or attentive he’d been.

 

* * *

 

She’d only taken two steps into the house when Howard’s wheezing voice came from behind her as he locked the door, effectively ending the night.

“Take off that dress. I wanna fuck.”

Turning to take him in, she calculated whether he’d actually make it to their bedroom. Seeing the small bulge in his pants gave her the only answer she needed and with a deep breath of resignation, she moved closer, turning at the last moment.

“Unzip me, please.”

Before long, she lay beneath him, eyes closed as he stuck it in and out, Howard sweating profusely with the exertion. Her thoughts wandered back to Ray, Layla letting herself fantasize about the other man and what hid beneath the well-appointed suit. It made the fucking easier, and for the first time, she felt arousal begin to grow between her legs, images of Ray walking out of a steaming bathroom clad only in a towel invading her every thought. Before she could stop it, the request left her lips, the first time in nearly 13 years that she’d asked for something in bed.

“Eat me out, please.”

Howard stopped moving and it took Layla a moment to realize he hadn’t finished. Opening her eyes, she saw the open disgust in her husband’s eyes and immediately, any thought of orgasm was gone.

“What next? Want me to stick it in your ass too? Don’t be filthy. Spread your legs, I’m gonna finish.”

Closing her eyes and biting her lip to keep it from trembling, Layla shut her mind off completely as he came onto her stomach, grunting as he rolled off her and went to get another drink, Howard muttering something about her being a whore as he went. Cold and once again alone, she tried to keep the words from her mind, focusing instead on sleeping and hopefully--if she was lucky--waking to a quiet, empty house the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Duke of Orleans Showing His Lover](https://www.museothyssen.org/en/collection/artists/delacroix-eugene/duke-orleans-showing-his-lover) is currently on exhibit at the Met. I found it by accident when trying to find an interesting exhibit to throw into the story, and it fit almost too well. :P


	2. Portrait of a Woman in Distress

__

_"He has no idea what he has in you."_

* * *

 

Layla woke to a cab horn just outside her window. Despite having lived in the city since marrying Howard there were still times when the city bested her, cab horns were usually the biggest culprit for pulling her out of a solid night’s rest.

Padding to the kitchen, she huffed out a sigh when she saw the note. It was always the same; scrawled on a post-it, in Howard’s chicken scratch was the word **_LUNCH_**. No _please_ , no _thank you_ , no _I love you_. Not even a damn heart scribbled in a rush. Shaking her head and checking the time, she moved towards the fridge to start making him something to eat.

The catch with Howard forgetting his lunch is that Layla had to play mind reader. He’d always had a list of foods he hated, which narrowed the playing field considerably, but she had to use context clues to try and get it right. This particular lunch had to be easy on the stomach, as he’d drank the night before. It had to still be flavorful, but couldn’t be spicy or properly spiced the way she’d do things back home.  Salt, Pepper and maybe a little Oregano. Soup would take too long to make from scratch, egg salad would probably upset his stomach, and salad was out of the question. Checking the fridge, she pulled out chicken she’d made the night before, some cherry tomatoes, mayo, celery, and the buttery croissants she’d picked up at the bakery the day before.

Munching on one of the croissants as she put things together, the [ end result ](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c1/c9/ec/c1c9ec424d6625d3cf3db47f8ecd12d6.jpg)was mouth-watering even to her. Pairing it with his favorite chips and a coke, she put everything away before moving back to the bedroom to get dressed.

Usually, she wore whatever she’d chosen for the day, often something resembling the ever-popular model-off-duty look. This time however, with the weather cooling off considerably in New York, she had a few more options--and subconsciously, someone to dress up for. Choosing a pair of black cigarette pants, her patent leather red-bottoms, a comfy gray sweater, and her newest purchase--a [ black blazer/cape combo ](https://i.pinimg.com/564x/83/30/a8/8330a846a0174f5bded1204ad858bc5e.jpg), Layla did her hair, put on a crimson lip and finally texted her best friend Rochelle. After the roller coaster that had been the gala, she needed some girl time, and Rochelle, being a bartender at a swanky place uptown, was always available during the day.

Packing up Howard’s lunch, she did a once-over on the house before locking up and whistling for a cab. Though she’d never truly admit it to herself, Layla was actually _excited_ about bringing her husband his lunch, but only because it meant she might catch a glimpse of Ray. She’d never paid attention before, but as the cab drove towards the financial district, Layla found herself wondering what Ray wore to work. Remembering how handsome he’d looked in his suit at the gala, she hoped that he looked just as sharp during the day.

As the cab neared the massive highrise that housed MCM, Layla found herself checking her hair and makeup in her compact, not wanting to walk in looking a mess when it could easily be prevented with a spot check. Confident that she looked as good as she felt, she paid the fare and hopped out, hips swaying in their natural rhythm towards the revolving doors.

It didn’t take long to check in and be given a badge to pass through the lobby and up to the 82nd floor where Howard and Ray both spent their days. Straightening her posture as the doors opened, Layla put a smile on as she passed the greeter and made her way down the open concept space towards the back where the senior staff and executives made their home. A flick of her eyes towards the glass-enclosed offices of the CEO’s and she spotted Ray immediately. Wearing a blue plaid suit with a tie that nearly matched her lipstick, Layla felt a rush of heat overcome her instantly. He looked both stylish and powerful, a beacon amidst the sea of black and navy day suits, and the waistcoat was the nail in the coffin that made her mind flood with all sorts of licentious fantasies.

Knocking on Howard’s door, she let her gaze slip once more to Ray, Layla having to repress her smile by biting her lower lip when he caught sight of her and gave her a big smile and a nod of appreciation for what Layla could only assume was her outfit. Feeling a boost of self-confidence, she gave Howard an unintentionally big smile as he opened the door.

“Hi, darling. I brought you lunch.”

“Come in,” he grunted, his own eyes gazing towards Ray’s office, albeit for a different reason. With the acquisition looming, Howard was waiting on pins and needles to be called into his boss’ office for the promotion he was certain was coming down the pipe. He completely missed Ray’s admiring gaze as Layla disappeared briefly through the doors.

With the offices set up the way they were, Ray’s faced the side of Howard’s, making it easy for him to keep an eye on not only Howard, but the other senior analysts who had offices right next to him. With glass for walls and each office being slightly further back than the one before it, it allowed Ray clear view of what was going without the discomfort of being looked back at all the time, as all the analysts’ desks faced the elevators and not Ray’s own.

Though he was sitting in on the tail end of a conference call with some UAE clients, Ray’s eyes were glued to Layla. She looked just as stunning as she had the night before, and with her hair styled more playfully, Ray couldn’t help but think of what it would look like after a good roll in the sack, all mussed and undone.

Ray watched as Layla’s smile slowly disappeared at the same time that Howard opened his lunch. The frown on the man’s face told the story, but the way he looked up and spoke to her made it clear; whatever she’d made him for lunch wasn’t to his liking.

“How fucking hard is it, Layla? How hard is it to make a nice steak with some onions, and a side of Mac? Huh? What am I gonna do with this shit?” As he spoke, he took the food out, inspecting it before tossing the sandwich she’d so carefully made in the trash.

Ray was appalled. It was no wonder she’d looked so miserable at the gala, if this is what she had to deal with on a daily basis. He almost rose from his desk, but thought better of it, knowing that unless Howard raised his voice or got physical with her that there was really nothing he could do, as it was a personal matter between them. Still, he felt his blood boil as he watched Layla’s confidence shatter and tears stream down her face at her husband’s cruelty and disregard.

His call ended just as Layla gathered up the container she’d brought Howard’s lunch in and turned for the door, oddly not saying a word to her husband as she left. Hanging up the call and slipping on his suit jacket, Ray followed her towards the bank of elevators, keeping a discreet distance so Howard would think nothing of it.

Getting on after her, Ray was grateful that they were the only two on the elevator. He snuck a peek at her and continued to feel ire towards his employee as he saw her wet cheeks continue to be soaked with tears despite her obvious attempts at restoring her composure. Knowing there were cameras on the elevator and not wanting to give anyone anything to chin-wag about, Ray did the only thing he could and moved so that he was perpendicular, back resting against the sides of the elevator. With his mouth obscured, he could speak to her without anything looking amiss.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that animal. He has no respect for you or the work you put in to try and make his life easier. He has no idea how lucky he is that you even bring him food; 99% of us go out for lunch every day. For him to do that was not only wrong but absolutely disgusting,” he said with firmness, his eyes meeting Layla’s, Ray wishing he could wipe away her tears.

“You should be with someone who will treat you at the very least like an equal, and at best like royalty. He has no idea what he has in you. You deserve better than that.”

Just as he finished speaking, the elevator dinged to signal they’d reached the lobby. Shaking his head, Ray motioned for her to step out first, waiting for just the right moment to squeeze her hand gently as he passed by.

For Layla, the ups and downs continued. Howard had effectively ruined any good mood she’d been in, but Ray had lifted her spirits slightly. If nothing else, he’d given her food for thought, and as she hailed another cab, watching as he walked down to the nearest Starbucks, Layla couldn’t help but begin to agree with him. She _did_ deserve better. Quickly however, the notion was overtaken by the reminder that had it not been for Howard, she wouldn’t be a citizen, wouldn’t be living in her favorite city, and certainly wouldn’t have the luxuries she admittedly took for granted on occasion.

With one last look at Ray as he charged confidently down the street, she got in the cab, ready for food, a drink or two, and her best friend to make sense of her head.

 

* * *

 

“What a fucking asshole! I can’t believe he did that. Your sandwiches are always bomb!” Rochelle protested, her face showing exactly how appalled she was with Howard’s actions. Sitting back in her chair, she crossed her long legs and took a sip of her Bellini, shaking her head. “That man is out of his mind. Plus, I’m gonna be honest with you Layla, he...He looks like he has a small dick.” Her face matter-of-fact, she tilted her head, waiting for Layla to respond.

“What does the size of his dick have to do with him being a complete jerk?”

“Uh, _everything_. It’s Napoleon Complex to the highest degree! Plus, you can’t be having a great time if he’s small. Or do y’all not even? Is there a Bob in your life, Layla? Tell me there’s a big, thick, veiny Bob in your life, so help me God.” The more she spoke, the more Layla looked away and the more shocked Rochelle became.

“Oh god! It’s worse than I thought! _Layla_!” Rochelle hissed, unable to believe how atrocious her friend’s sex life truly was. “C’mon. Give me a little ray of light here, girl!” She begged, reaching a hand out to cover Layla’s, Rochelle’s expression softening into something more sympathetic.

“We have sex...when he wants to. I just kinda...Lay there.” Layla shrugged, not wanting to make a bigger deal out of it than Rochelle was already doing.

Their waiter blessedly interrupted the conversation with their food, and for a moment, Layla focused on her salad, prepping her fork to take a stab at the greens before her plate was quickly switched out and replaced with Rochelle’s, her friend’s raised eyebrows making it clear they weren’t switching back. The Carbonara had been Layla’s original choice before her guilt had kicked in and she’d switched to the Cobb. Now, sitting in front of her, she was almost having a Pavlovian response to the sight and aroma of the dish she so loved but rarely indulged in.

“Eat it. After all the shit you just went through--and go through with that asshat--you deserve it. I’m not letting you even _look_ at this salad.” Rochelle huffed, smirking only when she wrapped an arm around her plate in an attempt to make her friend laugh. It worked, and Layla shook her head before twirling her first bite around her fork.

“Now, c’mon. Give your best friend some hope here. Is there anyone around that might be able to... _handle_ the business Howard so clearly can’t? Anyone? The guy down at the bodega even? You know those bad boys are _always_ good in the sheets.” Rochelle pried, leaving Layla to swallow and sigh after her first bite of heaven.

“ _Not_ that I would ever, _ever_ cheat on Howard, but…” Covering her face with her hands momentarily, Layla looked up only to find Rochelle on the edge of her seat, waiting with anticipation.

“His boss is nice.”  Biting her lip, Layla waited for the inevitable onslaught and squinted as Rochelle all but dove for her phone, a soft but sharp squeal leaving her friend as she excitedly googled Howard’s company.

“Okay, Howard’s up there by what you’ve said, so is his boss one of the big wigs? More importantly, what’s boss’ name?”

Knowing Rochelle would get it out of her one way or another, Layla resigned herself to the fact that it was too late to take it back and rolled her eyes. “His name is Ray.” She offered, unwilling to give more only because it would be apparent with two seconds of rooting around the company website _which_ Ray she was referring to.

“Giiiirllll! Okay. Hold up. No. You cannot sit here and tell me you wouldn’t leave your sack of shit for [ _this_ ](https://imgur.com/JM6Sld8.png) . You must be out of your _entire_ mind. Is he tall? He looks tall. He looks like he could pick you up with one hand, Layla. LAYLA! Don’t you even think about not taking a swim in that man’s pool! This is...This is mandatory coursework, okay? For science, at least!” Rochelle crowed, bouncing in her seat as she turned her phone so Layla could see Ray’s official company portrait.

Though the picture had been taken a few years back (she could tell from the art that hung in the background of the office’s main space), Ray’s image still had the same effect, and despite the lack of beard, Layla couldn’t keep the blush from rising up her cheeks as she looked away, trying hard to keep from smiling.

“He has a full beard now, and his hair’s buzzed shorter, but yeah, that’s him.” She confirmed, causing Rochelle to do a little victory dance in her seat, the sounds she was making attracting a few stares, but nothing Layla thought would end in them being escorted out.

“You know where we’re going after this, right? And which motherfucker’s card we’re using, right?” Rochelle said with a knowing smile, her fork complete with salad, pointed down the street the street, to a store Layla had always ventured into, but never bought anything from, having no need for it.

 

* * *

 

An unassuming little storefront on Mercer, Agent Provocateur was one of the few places Layla felt she could allow her mind to wander when walking through. With some of the most scandalous lingerie she’d ever seen, it was a place where she could let fantasies play out in her head. Faceless men who weren’t Howard seducing her, bedding her, and making her feel things she’d never felt before and had only ever seen in books and movies. Each piece sparked a different fantasy, and she looked forward to coming in after a new collection had been released simply to daydream new scenarios. Rarely trying anything on, she simply dawdled, feeling the soft silks, textured lace, and smooth leather that the pieces had to offer. She’d never brought anyone else to her place of dreams, and from the moment she and Rochelle walked in, she knew why.

“Hi. Hello. My friend here--beautiful, isn’t she?-- is in need of something that screams, ‘fuck me until the bed breaks’. Something filthy that’ll make a man fall to his knees and do anything she asks. A few pieces can stay on during, of course, so maybe something with a garter belt and some thigh-highs. Ooh, maybe a shelf bra! She’s got great ladies!” 

Giving Rochelle a death stare, Layla shook her head and dismissed the attendant's amused face. “I’m not actually looking for anything in particular. Just browsing. Sorry about my friend. She lost her mind a few years ago and we still haven’t found it.”

“No. You are not gonna play this game. We are buying you something sexy so that when fuckface invariably screws up again, you can call up that tall drink of water, and get your freak on, girl!”

“Okay, ladies. It’s obvious we’re looking for something sexy, something that’ll make him want to come back for more, and whether he’s a husband or a lover, doesn’t matter. What matters is how _you_ feel wearing it.” Their attendant cut in, motioning for the two to follow her towards the back where the most risque collections were kept.

With some trial-and-error, Layla found the pieces she’d always had on in her dreams. [ Black and lacy ](https://imgur.com/EwfSdKX.png) , the matching set was complimented with a garter belt and the thigh-highs that Rochelle had said were _de rigueur_. Looking at herself in the mirror, Layla saw herself in a kind light, ignoring her flaws in favor of focusing on how the lingerie made her feel and look. With Rochelle and their attendant looking at her reflection with glowing approval, Layla did something completely out of character, something she knew she’d only have to explain at the end of the month when the charge showed up on Howard’s card. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the credit card and handed it over to the attendant. Rochelle gave her a golf clap before doing a little jump, another squeak of excitement coming out before she could stop it.

“As my fairy godmother Retta would say...Treat yoself, girl!” Rochelle grinned, her expression one of genuine happiness for her friend, something that buoyed Layla more than anything after everything that had happened at the office.

 

After stopping at a few more stores with Rochelle, Layla took a cab back home, figuring she had enough time to hide the lingerie before Howard got home. Upon opening the door however, she could hear his all-too-familiar grunts coming from upstairs. Panicking, she stashed the bag in the front closet’s top shelf, tucked back in the corner and out of sight of any perusing he might do in the span of 24 hours.

“Darling, you’re home early. Everything okay?” She called as she stepped out of her shoes and hung up her jacket, almost scared to go upstairs, lest Howard had received bad news at work.

“Everything’s fine. I’m gonna be out of town for the weekend. The company needs an analyst out in Ohio to run the numbers on a prospective acquisition, and they picked me. Get up here and help me pack. I can’t find my cufflinks.”

Pausing for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, Layla couldn’t help but be confused. In all the years he’d worked for the company, no one had ever sent Howard on a business trip. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she climbed the stairs and found their bedroom looking closer to a bomb site than the well-organized home she did her best to maintain.

“Which cufflinks are you looking for, darling?” She asked quietly as she stepped over his clothes to get to their closet and the drawers where they kept their accessories.

“The black ones, obviously.” He replied curtly, Howard’s tone making Layla once again feel stupid, as though the answer was plain as day.

“Square or round? You got a second pair last year, remember?” She replied softly, trying her best to be patient with him, understanding that with it being his first business trip, Howard must be nervous.

“Round. No one’s wearing squares this year.” He told her, Layla having to repress a laugh when she remembered that not even five hours earlier, she’s seen Ray wearing square ones. With Howard being so behind the times in terms of fashion, she knew he was setting himself up for embarrassment, but after the debacle at lunch, Layla kept her mouth shut, letting him set his own trap.

Looking in the drawer that held his cufflinks, rings, watches, and the only two belts that still fit him, Layla found, to her surprise, that the ones he was looking for weren’t there. Back straightening, she took a quick look around the closet, wondering if maybe he hadn’t misplaced them. When they weren’t on any of the shelves, Layla’s fear began to rise again, until she remembered that he’d worn them to the gala.

“Darling, they’re not in the drawer. Where did you put them after the gala? You wore them last night.” She called, trying her best to put thoughts of their return home out of her mind.

“You stupid cow. I told you last night to put them back! As I was going down the stairs, I told you!” He yelled, Layla hearing his footsteps come stomping up behind her before she felt and smelled the heat on his breath.

“I’m sorry, darling, but I don’t remember you saying that at all,” she said in a near-whisper, Layla turning to face him, her face gentle and neutral, trying to disarm the fight before it even began.

“Of course you don’t! When the fuck do you ever remember what I say, Layla? Huh? Never, that’s when! Don’t just stand there, FIND THEM!” He barked, his rage making it hard for Layla to find an excuse for his behavior, and once again, she found herself wondering if all their years together had truly been worth it.

Brow furrowed, she stepped around Howard and back into the room, starting from the closet door and working her way out, picking things up as she went. Feeling hollow, she focused on finding the damn cufflinks, unwilling to admit fault until they’d been found.

When the bedroom was free of the tiny circles, Layla moved on to the bathroom, and there, on the counter, plain as day, were the cufflinks. Feeling like she might cry, Layla palmed them and padded back to the room, holding them out to Howard.

“They were in the bathroom.” She said flatly, not waiting for him to reply as she moved to the stairs, intent on starting dinner and avoiding another blowout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the linked pictures are SFW (although one IS lingerie, so it's a bit on the more risque side of things.)


	3. Portrait of a Friday Afternoon

_"What do you say we meet up for lunch?"_

* * *

They’d fought all night. About food (dinner had no flavor), her lipstick (it was trashy), the mess he’d made (he wouldn’t have had to if she’d put things where they belonged), and even the weather (no, he wasn’t bringing a weather resistant jacket). He hadn’t even given her peace in the shower, Howard standing by the cracked-open door and berating her about which suits needed to be dry cleaned in his absence. By the time her head hit the pillow, Layla didn’t even have the mental strength to fight off the tears, only to keep them silent as Howard snored next to her.

Come morning, she barely wanted to get out of bed. But the silence in the house meant Howard had left early for his flight, and if nothing else, she would be free of his presence for the weekend, at minimum. Friday mornings tended to be sacrosanct to her and with the burden of her husband gone, Layla decided she would keep her usual ritual, even if her heart wasn’t truly in it. Breakfast was extravagant; a bacon and cheese omelet, a croissant, and a hashbrown were all made to go with her coffee, and Layla sat on the floor in the living room, eating while she watched Adventure Time, her newest cartoon find. Call it childish, but she loved watching the type of shows that had captured her imagination as a child. Whether it was the classics, or something new that pulled inspiration from the shows that came before, Layla enjoyed nothing more than eating in front of the TV and letting the morning idle away as she watched, sipped her coffee, and then did her morning stretches.

Unfortunately, the ritual wasn’t working its usual magic, and after finishing her food, Layla found herself up and pacing, unable to quiet her mind enough to focus on just enjoying the day. Howard had been on another level as of late, his usual ambivalence turning to outright viciousness, and it had caused an even greater rift to open between them. Layla imagined herself on one side of a canyon, Howard on the other, unaware that she was in any peril or emotional distress. The thought made her angry more so than sad; she’d had her fair share of tears over the last few days, and she was tired of crying over a man who didn’t seem to care an ounce about her feelings.

As tended to happen whenever Layla let her mind take over, she began replaying the last few days in her head. Rochelle’s shock, Howard’s callousness, Ray’s kindness. All of it went on an infinite loop in her mind, but more than any other thought the one she kept coming back to was her and Howard in bed after the gala. Dissecting the sex, she felt nauseated at how unenjoyable it had been for her. How it was _always_ that way for her. The more she thought about it, the more Layla realized she wasn’t sure what an orgasm was supposed to feel like. From everything she’d seen, it was supposed to be this earth-shattering thing; women were forever screaming and moaning, shuddering and laughing after sex in the movies, and she’d never experienced _anything_ remotely close to that. Worried that something was wrong with _her_ , Layla grabbed her phone and called Rochelle.

“Yo!” Rochelle greeted, the song in the background getting muted, replaced by the soft sound of something sizzling in a frying pan.

“What’s an orgasm feel like?” Layla blurted out, her pacing across the living room increasing in pace as anxiety began to kick in.

“Good morning to you too, babe! Orgasms feel like you’re going up the first hill of a rollercoaster and doing the first drop with your arms over your head. When you come, the world sort of melts away and all you can feel is this intense tingling and warmth spreading through your entire body, the spark centering in your vag---Wait. I’m sorry. My brain must have short-circuited. Did you just ask me what A FUCKING ORGASM FEELS LIKE?!?” Rochelle was yelling by the end, her rage understandable, considering both she and Layla were well into their 30’s.

Layla was quiet for a moment, mortified that she’d even had to make the phone call, but knowing that there was no one else she could ask without even more embarrassment; Rochelle was her only friend.

“Howard’s the only man I’ve ever been with, you know that,” Layla said softly, feeling stupid for even saying it out loud. This time, it was Rochelle who was quiet, Layla knowing her friend was about to get real with her.

“If for no other reason, Layla, call Ray and see what happens. You can’t spend your whole life not knowing the pleasure of a man who can take care of you properly. I think deep down, you know you’re not happy with Howard, that there might be someone better out there for you. There’s no shame in that. You don’t owe that man jack shit. Who you _do_ owe is yourself. So think of it like paying a debt to the bank of Layla. You’re WAY past due and need to put in that down payment on your own happiness, otherwise you’re going to spend your life being miserable and unfulfilled in every way and there’s absolutely _nothing_ worse than that.”

Looking down at the floor, Layla nodded before realizing that Rochelle wouldn’t be able to hear the action. “Thank you.” The words were whispered and after a beat of silence, the two said goodbye and Layla was left to look at her phone and the one newly-added contact.

Filed simply under ‘R’, she could only stand still for a moment before she began to pace again. It felt like jumping off a cliff and several times she nearly pressed the number only to back out at the last second. Finally, with a scream that was equal parts terror and nerves, she closed her eyes and pressed the button, praying for it not to go through.

“Ray Merrimen,” he answered, his tone jovial though still professional.

“Hey. It’s Layla,” she started, fumbling over her words as though her mouth were spackled with molasses.

“Hey!” He greeted, the warmth in his tone increasing tenfold, Ray sounding genuinely happy to hear from her. “How’re you doing?” he asked, Layla surprised when she heard the concern in his voice.

“I’m good. I...I figured since he’s out of town on business, that I should finally make good on the number that _magically_ appeared in my bag and call,” Layla answered as she continued to wear a path through the rug, moving in a slow circle around her coffee table as she waited for Ray’s reply.

“I’m glad you called. I was worried about you, especially after what happened yesterday,” Ray said, his voice going quiet. In the background, Layla heard his office door open and what could only be an assistant set papers down on his desk. “Thanks, Brad.” Ray said with the same hurried-but-appreciative tone all men in his position had by default, his office going quiet once more before he resumed.

“So, listen, I was planning on cutting out of here early today, around lunch. Giving myself a long weekend. What do you say we meet up for lunch? Spring and Varick at the Dominick?” He asked, Ray’s tone softer, more intimate than she’d ever heard it before. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost call it being nervous, but with Ray being Ray, she had no doubt it was nothing of the sort and instead just how he spoke to women he was interested in. It was refreshing, to say the least.

“Sounds good. What time?” She stammered out, Layla’s heart beating out of her chest as she began moving towards the stairs, backpedaling only when she remembered she’d stashed the lingerie in the front closet.

“Let’s say...One? Does that work for you?” Ray replied, hoping that would give her enough time to get ready and make her way down to the Dominick from where she was.

“One works. One definitely works,” Layla confirmed, reaching up on her tiptoes and grabbing the bag before making a beeline for the staircase, knowing it would be a sprint to get dressed and get down in time.

“One it is. I’ll see you soon, Layla. I look forward to it.” Layla could hear the smile in his voice and unlike the tone Howard took on when he smiled, Ray’s tone only served to send a warm thrill through her.

 

* * *

 

Far from being the fidgety mess she’d been the day before when she’d delivered lunch, the lingerie Layla had purchased had acted like a suit of armor, giving her the perfect boost of confidence and making what she wore over it all the sexier. She felt like a million bucks, and with her hair in loose waves, her [ coat and dress matching to a T ](https://i.imgur.com/UGVfCQm.png), and her vermillion lipstick accentuating her pout, she looked the part to boot.

Stepping out onto the curb, she took a deep breath, confident in her decision. Rochelle’s words echoed in her head on a loop, empowering her to go through with what, a few years ago, she would have balked at the mere thought of. Catching a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the restaurant’s windows, she couldn’t help but smile; it was going to be a very good weekend.

It didn’t take long to spot Ray at the bar when she walked in. Despite being seated, he still towered over most of the other patrons, and [ his suit ](https://i.imgur.com/dI6uJee.jpg?2), similar to the three-piece she’d seen the day before, was just as eye-catching, albeit a little more muted in its tones. They shared a smile when their eyes met, and Layla couldn’t help but chuckle when Ray gave her an appreciative expression, cementing her choice in outfit for their little outing.

“Wow. You look gorgeous!” He enthused as he stood, Ray offering her his arm to make their way back to the table that had already been reserved. Charmed, Layla took it, casting her own glance over his tall frame.  

“Not too shabby yourself. I like you in patterns. It’s a nice departure from all the guys in black and white,” Layla grinned, setting her clutch down on the table before she felt Ray’s hands at the collar of her coat, helping her out of it. “Thank you,” she murmured, not even having time to reach for the back of her chair before Ray was pulling it out for her. Flustered in the best way, Layla sat and adjusted herself before watching as Ray took his own seat. His movements were smooth and intensely confident without putting on airs; Ray knew his own body well and it showed in every move he made.

“First time here?” He asked, Ray’s eyes darting from her only for a moment to catch the waiter’s eye before his focus returned to her entirely. Layla couldn’t remember the last time a man had paid her so much genuine attention. It felt...nice.

“I’ve been once before, but that was a few years ago, so the menu’s completely different than it was then,” Layla answered, breaking Ray’s line of sight only to look down at the options.

The menu was small and seasonal, something she appreciated, and while she knew she’d be in for small portions, breakfast had been enough to tide her over and this would carry her through going home and making something more substantial for dinner.

Their waiter approached and Layla ordered a glass of white, already knowing what she wanted from the menu. She was surprised when Ray ordered the same, following her lead. “I didn’t take you for a wine guy,” Layla smiled, looking back up at Ray once she’d made her decision.

“Usually I prefer spirits, but whiskey wouldn’t go with what I chose. Actually, it’d be pretty terrible,” he winked, making Layla’s smile grow.

She felt like a teenager again, butterflies flitting around in her stomach as Ray focused solely on her, the rest of the room forgotten. It was the first time in ages she’d had a true crush, and the fact that it was clearly reciprocated only served to make her more excited.

“Any plans for the weekend, since you cut out early and all?” Layla asked, already envisioning Ray leaving their lunch and hopping on a private jet to fly off to some island where he could soak up the sun and come back tan enough to make everyone else jealous.

“Depends on what a certain someone is up to. Personally, I just wanted to play hooky for once.” They shared a laugh, and Layla couldn’t help but become a little more enamored with Ray when she saw how his face lit up with humor and joy.

“Well, a _certain someone_ was gonna bask in the peace of a quiet house, maybe go for a drive out of town, but mostly just binge watch all the things she needed to catch up on while eating cookie sandwiches.”

Ray’s face broke into a smile that Layla could only equate to a sunny day, his warmth and willingness to laugh with her--not _at_ her--a quality she rarely found in anyone she knew. It warmed her own heart and slowed time a little, Layla’s worries about the last few days dissipating more and more with every minute she spent in Ray’s company.

When the waiter returned to take their order, Ray gave deference to Layla, noting she’d taken a quick glance at the menu and chosen outright, something he appreciated in anyone, but especially in a woman he was interested in. Indecisiveness was on of his pet peeves, and so far, despite the hangups he knew she probably had over their encounters, Layla was showing no sign of being the type of person who took two hours to make a decision.

“I’ll have the Gnudi,” Layla told the man, giving him a professional smile before taking a sip of her wine, curious to see what Ray would order. His amused chuckle told the story as he handed over his menu.

“I’ll have same, actually,” he grinned at Layla, shaking his head at the coincidence.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you did that on purpose.”

“On purpose? Me? _Never_.” Ray smirked before laughing heartily. “In all seriousness though, it’s what I had last time and it was delicious, so I thought why not go for an encore?”

“Good to know I made the right choice.” Layla returned the smirk over the rim of her wine glass, both of them feeling the heat rise in the building.

 

* * *

 

“You were right, that was absolutely delicious.”

“Can’t go wrong with pasta and cheese. No matter how dressed up it is.”

Ray went silent after his agreement, his eyes finding hers, a heat behind his gaze that was hard to miss. Layla didn’t wither under his stare, but instead, let her foot casually slide against his pant leg, one hand draped in her lap while the other hung loosely around her wine glass.

“Join me upstairs. We can get a little more comfortable,” Ray said, licking his lips after finishing his own glass, his eyes never leaving hers.

Though she was still nervous about the whole thing, Layla needed only think of the night after the gala to make up her mind. Standing, she waited for Ray to tell their waiter to charge it to the room and tip him before sliding her coat back on, not wanting to make it so obvious that they were headed upstairs for one reason, and one reason only.

The Dominick had ten penthouse suites, and Ray’s preferred room faced south, looking out over the Brooklyn Bridge and the edge of lower Manhattan. With [ floor-to-ceiling windows ](https://i.imgur.com/U91jXPV.jpg) and modern furnishings, it was the epitome of luxury and a nice spot to rest away from the buzz of the city.

“So you just have a penthouse on hold at all times?” Layla grinned as they went up in the elevator, Ray’s keycard giving access to the top floor of the building.

“Yeah, but I only really use it when I’m gonna fly out of JFK. Cuts down on the traffic nightmare.”

“So this isn’t where you bring all the girls you charm the panties off of, then.”

Ray grinned, letting his eyes roam over her curves from head to toe, “Unless you’re going commando, you’d be the first I’d ever have the pleasure of charming the panties off of here.”

The answer was as unexpected as it was arousing, Layla liking the idea of being the first woman he’d ever brought up to the penthouse. With a flush of heat going straight to her head, she could only shake her head and look down at her clutch, the smile never once leaving her face.

Inside, Ray took off her coat once more, hanging it in the front closet before doing the same to his jacket. Rolling up his sleeves as he made his way over to the complimentary bar, he looked back at her over his shoulder. “Pick your poison, beautiful.”

Layla barely heard the question, too caught up in watching Ray roll up his sleeves and move around the room to process what he’d said at first. “Huh? Oh, um...Whiskey, neat.” She said, coming back to herself and moving closer to take the first drink he’d poured.

“Thank you,” Layla whispered, waiting for Ray to pour himself two fingers’ worth of the caramel nectar before she raised her glass.

“To…”

“To getting what you need,” Ray finished her toast for her, his eyes darkening with what Layla could only call hunger. Combined with the heat from the whiskey, the knowledge that she was the object of his desires gave Layla a heady rush, and she was grateful for the alcohol, otherwise, the intensity of his gaze might have been her complete undoing.

Ray licked his lips when he’d finished his drink, setting his glass down before moving closer. Slipping a hand around her waist, he used the other to set her own empty glass down next to his. With a dip of his head down to her neck, his lips lit over her skin gently, Ray wanting to warm her up slowly, wanting Layla seduced and melting by the time he even _thought_ of unzipping her dress.

A sigh of pleasure was the last sound she expected to leave her lips, but Layla couldn’t control her reaction at how the kisses made her feel. Her hand found the nape of his neck, fingers gently pricked by his buzz cut, the sensation only adding to the sensory-overload Layla was beginning to experience. Her eyes fell shut as Ray’s mouth moved up to the tender spot just behind her ear, Layla shivering involuntarily when he hit the mark.

Though she’d been ready for marginally better sex than what she got with Howard, and secretly hoped for her first orgasm, Layla hadn’t been prepared for the reality that Ray wasn’t a one-and-done type of man. The attention he paid to her, attention she’d never truly experienced before, made all the difference in the world, and any fantasy she’d ever had paled in comparison as one hand slid up to cup her face, Ray’s mouth finally finding hers in a kiss that dropped the rest of the world from view.

Ray’s lips continued to find Layla’s skin as he moved them towards [ the bedroom ](https://i.imgur.com/NUUNWuF.jpg). By the time her legs bumped the mattress, she was breathless and her head was spinning like never before. She felt overheated and overwhelmed, but wouldn’t trade a second of it if it meant more of Ray’s generous attention. When she managed to open her eyes, she realized the bedroom’s curtains were wide open, and a momentary shot of shyness overcame her. Though the Dominick was the tallest building for blocks, she could still see the top floors of other buildings and the thought of getting naked where anyone looking up could see was slightly scandalous.

Catching where her gaze had drifted to, Ray grinned. “If they can see us from down there, they have binoculars and way too much time on their hands. Even then, why not give them a show?” He asked, his hands sliding up her back before pressing another kiss to her lips, Ray’s confidence allowing her own moment of prudishness to be overridden. “Give them a show,” she murmured against his lips, Layla’s hands reaching up to loosen Ray’s tie before going for the buttons on his waistcoat.

“You’re gorgeous. They should be so lucky to get even a peek.” Ray added as he pulled back enough to give her room, his own hands continuing to caress her as she worked at undressing him.

“For the record, you in a suit does really inappropriate things to my thoughts,” Layla breathed out, biting her lip as she slid the waistcoat over his broad shoulders, the tie following suit as her hands went for the main event, untucking Ray’s dress shirt before starting to unbutton it. Her arousal shot through the roof as the fit form beneath was revealed.

The complete antithesis of her curves, he was cut from granite, every muscle well-defined and perfectly proportioned. Layla couldn’t help the soft groan of appreciation that came from her as her hands slipped over his torso. A departure from all the men she saw at the gym, Ray wasn’t some hairless creature, walking around with smoother skin than her own waxed legs. An ample amount of thick, dark hair covered his chest, leading down his torso to his belt, the trail making Layla curious as to what hid underneath.

Eyes flashing down, then back up at him, Layla quickly undid his belt and fly as Ray took off his shirt and toed off his shoes. When the material slid to the ground, Layla slumped onto the bed, watching as Ray took himself down to black boxer briefs alone and then stood in front of her, giving her a moment.

Ray knew that contrary to popular belief, women were just as visually-aroused as men, and he gave Layla the time to admire the body he worked hard for every day, understanding that she needed _this_ as much as she needed the actual physical act they were about to engage in.

Layla took Ray in with her head lolled to one side, lips parted slightly as she drank him in. Shifting in her seat when she got to the two deep clefts in his hips, she felt another shiver go through her and had to swallow against a dry throat, the two paths merging with the hair that grew below his belly button to form an enticing path now hidden only by the waistband of his underwear.

When she’d gotten her fill, Layla stood and turned her back to Ray, moving her hair out of the way so there’d be no mistaking what she was asking for. Ray didn’t miss the cue, and pressed his body close as he began slowly undoing the zipper, wanting to make her wait just a little longer, wanting to tease just a bit before he truly drove her wild. Lips finding the nape of her neck, he kissed her slowly, speaking against her skin.

“Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen…”

“Coming from the model for Michaelangelo, that’s high praise.” Layla managed to joke, her own smile increasing when she felt Ray’s against her shoulder.

“Like what you see?” Ray growled softly, turning her chin to kiss her lips once more.

“Mmhmm.” The answer was given in the kiss, Layla only realizing Ray had turned her to face him when they parted from the kiss.

With eyes that were filled with nothing but appreciation for her, Ray slowly slipped the dress off her shoulders, letting the material pool at her feet before he extended a hand to help her step out of the pile of fabric.

“Wow.” He breathed, taking a step back to truly appreciate what she looked like beneath all the fashionable outfits he’d seen her wear. “Just...God, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Though Layla could have easily written off Ray’s words as hyperbole, but something about his tone and his gaze told her that it was anything but. The realization made her feel sexier than ever and she did a slow spin for him, showing off the lingerie in full and her shape along with it.

Ray unconsciously licked his lips as he took her in, every curve and dip turning him on more and more. By the time she came back around, he had to adjust himself and with a growl that was as primal as it was hungry, he moved in close again, his hands sliding along her bare skin as he pulled Layla flush against his chest. There was no missing how much she’d aroused him, and as his lips crashed against hers, Layla could feel her own excitement growing at what was to come.

Layla needed sex in its rawest form, needed the primal pleasure Howard had never learned how to give, and as Ray began slowly kissing his way down her body, finding every single tender spot she had, Layla knew he’d be the one to give her what she’d so desperately been missing out on. Ray paused at her breasts, his eyes finding hers before one hand reached around. Flawlessly undoing the clasp, he let out a sound of appreciation that shot right to Layla’s core. In less than ten minutes, Ray had done more to make her feel valued and sexy than Howard had in fourteen years. It really put things in perspective, and Layla was about to say as much when the feeling of his warm, wet tongue sliding across her nipple short-circuited any higher thought.

“Oh, Ray!” She breathed, eyes falling closed as he gave each nipple individual attention, sucking, licking, and nipping ever so gently on each one until they pebbled. She felt his smile of enjoyment against her skin even as his mouth moved lower, grazing down her stomach and following the border of her panties, each kiss causing her to clench and shiver in anticipation.

When his warm hands bracketed her sides, Layla didn’t even have to look to know what was coming next. Fingertips curled in the small slip of string on either hip and in one smooth motion, she was laid bare before him, her body on full display.

“When’s the last time a man took his time between your legs, Layla?” Ray asked as he stood up, taking a step back before sliding off the last item of clothing he wore, giving Layla an image she knew she would fantasize over for at _least_ the next few weeks, if not forever.

 _Heavy_ was the first word that came to mind, and Layla couldn’t keep from staring even if she tried. Hard enough to hang a towel from, Layla felt a visceral reaction in her body at taking in the full picture. Never had she felt the urge to have a man inside her the way she did when she looked at Ray. It was a primal instinct she’d thought long extinct, but there was Ray, bringing out every long-repressed urge she’d ever had.

Remembering he’d asked her a question, Layla moved her eyes quickly to his smirking face and answered, her words coming out far more sheepish than she’d intended for them to sound.

“I...Howard’s not into that. I’ve actually never…” Stopping herself before she killed the mood entirely, Layla resisted the urge to look at the ground, and instead watched as Ray’s amused expression turned into one of determination.

“His loss. Your gain,” Ray said simply, moving in close once more, this time to guide her back onto the bed. Moving her to the middle of the mattress with ease, Ray kissed up her legs as he got situated between her spread thighs. His kisses turning to light nips the higher up her inner thigh he got, he made sure to keep eye contact with her as he kissed teasingly over her mound.

Never once breaking eye-contact, Ray let his tongue slip out to sluice through her folds, a soft moan escaping him at the first taste of her. She was _soaked_ , and he couldn’t blame her; years of not being taken care of properly, of having to deal with a loveless marriage would be enough to drive any other woman mad. Feeling the slight trembling in her thighs and knowing that would get stronger as he progressed, Ray shifted her legs so that each draped over one of his shoulders. He let her sink into the mattress and relax her back, the angle perfect for him to devour her fully.

Ray took his time in eating her out, letting his wet tongue slide over and through her folds until he reached her clit where he sucked gently. Mouth watering at how good she tasted, warm, wet sounds escaped at each lick and suck, Ray’s cock throbbing harder the more he worked her.

"Taste so good, gorgeous," he groaned before letting his tongue slide around her entrance, Ray teasing with the very tip before gently sliding his tongue inside her. Lapping at her juices, he smiled when he felt her pussy clench, knowing she would come quickly the first time, out of sheer necessity. Her smooth pussy was a feast for him, Ray’s eyes closing as he enjoyed his meal, making her even wetter than before with each pass of his tongue.

It was nothing like she could have imagined, and from the first touch of his tongue, Layla was a mess of arousal and need. Her hand came down instinctively, slipping over his head, fingernails scratching gently at the nape of his neck, a move that earned Layla a low, thrumming growl that she felt all the way up her spine. Ray had a true hunger for her and the ease with which he provided her pleasure for their mutual enjoyment heightened every lick, suck, and tease of his mouth against her.

Layla gasped loudly when she felt his tongue push inside, her mouth locked open as she scrambled to couple a visual with the sensation between her legs. The sight of Ray’s wet lips moving over her folds while his tongue slid in and out made her manicured toes curl against the strong muscles of his back, and Layla knew at that moment that there was no going back. Sex would never be the same, and neither would her relationship with Howard. How could he ever compare?

“Ray, please!” She begged without even realizing, her legs visibly shaking as he drew her nearer and nearer to her first orgasm.

Ray merely smiled, his tongue massaging her G-spot in long, slow licks, his grin growing when he felt the unmistakable clench of her orgasm building. Howard had no idea what he was missing. Alternating his licks between her clit and that tender spot inside her, Ray blindly reached for her hands, lacing their fingers together as she got closer to the edge.

Layla couldn’t decide whether to splay her legs or lock them around Ray’s head, the pressure and intensity of what she was feeling leaving her mind a gelatinous puddle, useless for any refined function. She was grateful he’d taken a hold of her hands, otherwise she’d have nothing to ground to, Ray’s attention to her body and her overall needs one that took her breath away.

“That ‘a girl!” Ray approved, his eyes gleaming with pride as he watched Layla’s hips buck of their own accord, her body beautiful in motion, especially in the throes of pleasure. His tongue plunged in deep as Layla’s heels dug into his flanks, Ray knowing she was about to fall over the edge, in an orgasm that was long overdue.

“Ray, Ray, RAY!!!” Layla couldn’t control her words, her volume, or her desperation as her body began to drop her over the edge of the cliff before she could even have a second thought on the matter. Ray’s animalistic growl did nothing to help the situation, and with a final cry of his name, she came against his tongue, her entire body shaking forcefully from the intensity.

Rock hard, Ray continued to lick, suck, and kiss her pussy, making a mess of her juices as he slowly began to shift his position, knowing Layla needed to be fucked, and fucked well. Keeping her legs over his shoulders, he rested on his knees momentarily, giving her one last opportunity to touch if she wanted. Layla didn’t disappoint, her hand reaching out to stroke his cock in an endearing mix of curiosity and desire, Ray assuming she’d never really touched Howard that way.

Her eyes darkened with utter lust, Layla took hold of Ray’s erection and explored a little, feeling his girth and letting one finger tease over the slit that was already leaking precum. Biting her lower lip, she looked back up, still gripping it lightly. “Please, Ray.”

Neither gave a thought to a condom, Layla having always used backup protection with Howard, having never once entertained the notion of having his children. She wanted Ray the way nature had intended, nothing between them but the slick of their arousal, and with her free hand, she pulled him down for another torrid kiss, Layla tasting herself on his tongue.

“I want you to promise me not to hold back, not to hold anything in. If you need to scream, I want you to scream. If you want it harder or deeper, say so. If you get a cramp, for the love of god, tell me before it gets bad,” Ray smiled against her lips, his fingers sweeping through her hair affectionately.  “I'm gonna take you the way Howard should have been doing this whole time. The way a man _should_ take care of the woman that’s got him swept up in her beauty. Don’t hold back. Let your body take what it needs from mine, no matter how much that might be. Understood?” Layla sucked in a breath and nodded haphazardly, her mouth too dry to speak, the urgency of feeling Ray sink inside her too much to bear for much longer.

Squatting between her legs, Ray canted Layla’s hips up, his eyes meeting hers once more as his hands held her hips in place. “Deep breath,” he coached, Ray knowing he was about to fill every last inch of her and then some. Slowly, so that she could feel every inch of his cock as he went, Ray pushed inside Layla, his eyes rolling back in his head at just how tight of a squeeze it was.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Layla!” He growled, his gaze snapping back to her face in time to watch the shock and desire take over. In that moment, he knew she’d _never_ had it like this, from Howard or anyone else. Once he was in to the hilt, he gave her a moment before he began to thrust, his hips rocking in smooth waves, pulling nearly all the way out before plunging back in.

Before long, the thrusts grew faster, and Ray slid his hands up the back of Layla’s legs, gently folding her in half to deepen the angle. “Holy shit!” She cried out, the penetration far deeper than anything she’d ever experienced, Layla’s eyes wide as now had a front row seat to the best sex she’d ever had. Hands grappling desperately for anything to hold on to, she managed to reach Ray’s hips, urging him to take her harder.

“Yeah?” He smirked, taking the touch for the request it was and beginning to rut into her in earnest. With his chest keeping her mostly in place, Ray cupped the back of her head and brought Layla up for a searing kiss. The bed bounced and creaked, and there was the unmistakable wet slap of flesh against flesh as he continued to work her body thoroughly, Ray watching her face for signs that she was close again.

When her hand slipped down to rub her clit, he gently pried it away, shaking his head. “Nuh uh. Not the first time. Want you to experience what it can be like when it’s done right.” His words drew a long, low moan from Layla, her hips bucking up hard, the friction impossibly delicious as he fit inside her like the missing piece of a puzzle, Ray’s cock hitting _all_ the right spots.

Panting and gasping, Layla begged Ray to bring her over the edge with her eyes, begged for mercy and release. She got a growl of approval in return, his smile sharp and beautiful as he increased the intensity even more, Ray’s hips loose yet purposeful, his thrusts those of a man who knew how to make a woman scream in the best possible way.

Her surroundings went a blinding white for a moment as she came, Layla screaming Ray’s name at the top of her lungs, not caring if anyone else on the top floor heard her. Gripping him desperately, she held on tightly as her orgasm shot through her powerfully, mewls and soft squeals leaving her lips before she pressed them against his neck in a series of frenzied kisses.

Ray’s own release came swiftly once Layla clenched around him, her body milking his for every last drop, his hips stilling the moment he went over the edge. Lips hovering together, they breathed in each other’s air as he emptied inside her, Layla feeling every surge of his body inside her, the sensation sending her down an entirely different spiral as she realized the lack of barrier made all the difference in her pleasure.

As she caught her breath and slowly unhooked her legs from their place on Ray’s shoulders, Layla felt the overwhelming urge to cry. It was impossible to maintain her composure, and she felt completely at a loss, not understanding why tears were streaming down her temples if she was so beyond blissful.

“I’m sorry!” She stammered, covering her eyes with one arm, her smile ear-to-ear even as her shoulders began to heave. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”  With a wet laugh, Layla shook her head and tried to stem the flow to no avail. Her body was forcing her hand, and there was no stopping the whimpers and soft sobs that left her erratically.

Ray’s smile was tender and supportive and even as he pulled out, he brought her into the warmth of his embrace, kissing away the tears before stroking her cheek gently with his knuckles. “Don’t apologize. They’re happy tears, even I can see that. You just went through something beautiful, something I suspect you’ve never experienced. It’s natural to be overwhelmed with emotion. I don’t think I’ve ever seen something as beautiful as you reaching orgasm before in my life.” The words were just as earnest as when he’d called her beautiful, and there, in the cocoon of his arms, Layla felt filled with light and hope for the first time in fourteen years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a marathon, and my hand is cramping as I write this. It's probably one of the longest lead-ups to a love scene I've ever written, but I felt it was important to establish their connection a little further before throwing them into the sheets. :P
> 
> Also, I think it's pretty obvious that Layla's on birth control, so don't @ me about the lack of a condom. :P I don't condone unsafe sex, and this is all just fiction. Capiche?


	4. Potrait of a Second-First Date

_"I don’t know about you, but I want a burger."_

* * *

In the gentle  haze that followed her first orgasm, Layla found Ray tracing nonsensical patterns on her back, his smile warm and tender as he looked down at her. 

“I have a confession to make,” he murmured, moving the hand at her back up to her hair to stroke it away from her face. Layla’s head turned a bit, wondering what he could possibly have to divulge this early on.

“I sent Howard to the Midwest on something of a wild goose chase. The company he’s doing analytics for… We probably aren’t going to be acquiring them. Unless his numbers prove otherwise, it would be pointless for us to do it. I sent him away because I couldn’t stand what he’d done to you at lunch, and that was the best way to make him as miserable as he made you.”

Layla was quiet for a moment, her face unreadable as she tried to process the information. While it wasn’t surprising that Ray had sent her husband away, his reasoning was. Any other man would have done it out of a desire to sleep with her and not because they felt affronted by how her husband had treated her. Finally, a soft smile crossed her face and leaning up, Layla pressed a kiss to Ray’s lips, her fingertips running down his beard as she did so.

“Thank you. That was very chivalrous of you, though I’m not sure he’ll come back any better if he realizes all that work was for nothing,” she murmured against his mouth, Layla then tucking her face into the crook of his neck, her own arms squeezing just a little tighter around him.

“We can deal with that if it happens. There’s plenty of other places I can send him,” Ray winked, tucking her in close and kissing the crown of her head affectionately.

Layla rolled onto her back after a while, stretching her arms over her head and arching her back, partially to tease Ray with the pose, and partially to loosen muscles she knew might be sore tomorrow given the vigor of their lovemaking.

“How’re you feeling?” Ray’s voice was still gravel, a fact Layla found endearing as it made it clear she wasn’t the only one who’d been affected by their coupling. She chuckled at the question, her smile bright and open, a heady departure from her usual, more morose expression.

“Amazing. I’ll let you know if that changes tomorrow,” she teased, relaxing back against the pillows and looking at the late afternoon skyline. She didn’t want to leave the moment, didn’t want the current between them to break, even though rationally she knew it had to at some point. After all, he had work, and she had Howard to deal with.

Ray matched her stretch with one of his own, Layla watching in amusement as every muscle twitched, right down to his toes. His growl made her giggle, the noise muffled as he wrapped her up in a bear hug, Layla managing to get her arms around him before she was totally engulfed in his warmth. The physical affection was a treat Layla hadn’t been expecting, especially from a man who held such a serious position in life. Away from business, Ray was warm and gentle, all smiles and tender touches that shot right to her very core. He was the polar opposite of Howard in every way. Snuggling into his hug, Layla found herself thinking that this type of relationship was one she could quickly get used to and though she very quickly reminded herself that she was married, the thought persisted and prevented her from getting up and making a fool of herself by making a quick getaway.

Breathing in the scent of his cologne, Layla let her body relax completely, Ray’s hold around her clearing her mind of any negative thoughts, replacing them only with warmth and happiness. Unlike so many romps with Howard, the quiet after sex was not only bearable, but comfortable and peaceful. They were still connected, still on the same wavelength even though they weren’t melded together physically.

“What do you say we both go home, get changed into something a little more comfortable, then meet up for dinner somewhere a little less highbrow? Maybe check out something after?” Ray  suggested after a few more minutes of silent touches and feather-light kisses. Looking up from the spot where she’d happily smushed her face against his pec, Layla nodded.

“Am I gonna get to see you in...dare I say it...jeans? Maybe even a hoodie?” She asked impishly, Layla letting out a boisterous laugh as Ray suddenly rolled onto her and began tickling her sides, finding the exact spots that made her holler the loudest.

“Yeah, you’ll see me in jeans,” he grinned, waiting until she was nearly out of breath before stopping his tickles, Ray leaning down and pressing a warm kiss to her lips, the levity and radiance of his happiness passing through to Layla as though he were breathing life into her very soul.

“Then it’s a deal. Where do you wanna go?” She asked, sitting up as Ray moved off the bed, both of them getting dressed on autopilot, focused more on meeting back up than on looking presentable.

“I don’t know about you, but I want a burger.” Layla paused and--in a moment she knew she would laugh about for years to come--she and Ray locked eyes.

“Five Guys.” They said in unison, both Layla and Ray doubling over in laughter before grabbing their coats and heading for the door, enthused for what the night would hold.

* * *

By the time Layla was ready and in a cab heading towards 32nd and Madison, it was nearing on six and the city was taking on the warm hues of sunset. Ray had told her to bring an overnight bag and though she still had butterflies, something felt incredibly right about spending the night with the man who’d swept her physically and metaphorically off her feet. Having decided on a simple, nearly all-black look for the evening, Layla had paired  [ black leggings with a loose v-neck t-shirt, her moto jacket, and all-white sneakers ](https://imgur.com/StEAcUI.png) . It was a look that not only checked the box on casual, but would keep her reasonably warm and allow them to do a bit of walking after dinner. Though she wasn’t sure what Ray had planned, Layla had no intention of spending one of the last semi-warm nights in the city trapped in the back of a car when they could enjoy their time on foot.

Paying the driver, she got out in front the agreed-upon Five Guys and looked around, wondering if she’d somehow managed to be early. It only took a moment to pick him out of the crowd of pedestrians, and when she did, Layla couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. As promised, Ray was wearing jeans and a hoodie, but looked put-together enough to get into most of the upscale bars in the area, a subtlety she appreciated. In a bomber that covered an Everlast hoodie, black jeans, and a pair of black leather sneakers with a white sole, he looked warm and approachable, a far cry from the sharp, powerful look of the suits he wore daily, suits that were meant to intimidate, fascinate and keep people at arm’s length. Layla closed the distance between them and was yet again enveloped in his arms, her smile growing as he pressed fond kisses to her cheeks and the top of her head.

“Is there anything you put on that doesn’t look amazing on you?” He asked warmly, Ray cupping her face before kissing her tenderly, his enthusiasm for her appearance an intoxicating departure from the usual criticism she was used to from Howard. Reaching up, she tugged playfully at his beard before giving him a kiss in return, Layla shaking her head when she finally pulled away.

“I could say the same for you, you know? I was expecting college frat boy, but instead you give me model-off-duty,” she joked, Layla not missing how easy it felt to slip in against his side as they walked into the fast food joint and joined the line of people waiting to order their dinner.

Layla relaxed back against Ray as he hugged her from behind, moving them slowly up in line with shuffling steps and a kiss to her cheek each time another customer got their order. Though part of her would call it juvenile to be so affectionate in public, Layla’s heart was singing, drowning out any care about what others might think of the two of them; it was freeing, to say the least.

They both ordered bacon cheeseburgers, Layla not feeling her usual guilt as she ordered a chocolate and salted-caramel milkshake, knowing Ray wouldn’t berate her for treating herself. Picking a table by the front window of the restaurant, Layla took a moment to admire the city at night, her smile wistful and soft.

A touch to her cheek brought her out of her revery and she found Ray giving her a wink. “It’s like night and day, seeing you now versus when we first met,” he said, stroking her cheek gently before finally letting go to let her take her first bite.

Both chewed in silence for a moment before Ray jerked his chin up, swallowing his food before asking a question Layla wasn’t expecting. “So, tell me, how did you and Howard meet?” Part of Layla felt like rolling her eyes and making a joke about it being the last topic she’d expected to talk about with her husband’s boss, but a larger part of her knew why he was asking. She harkened back to when they’d first met and the concern he’d had for her; Ray was just trying to figure out where it all went wrong, and  _ that _ , Layla appreciated more than anything. Taking a deep breath, she sat back in her seat and took her mind back to that first night.

“He was on vacation at the resort I worked at at the time. I was 19, he was 40. Back then, he was  _ actually _ charismatic and talked a good game. He offered to take me to dinner at another resort’s Michelin-starred restaurant. Paid for a new dress, shoes, hair and makeup. Back then, I thought it was charming, you know?  But now I know he was just grooming me to be his perfect wife. By the end of the week, he was begging me to drop my life and move to the states with him, saying he’d take care of all the paperwork and red tape. At the time, I had nothing. My parents had died a few years before, I was barely making rent, and could only speak broken English. He promised me all the trappings of a dream life and I took the bait. Things were good at first, he treated me decently, even brought home gifts on occasion. Then, like a child with a toy, he got bored of having a wife at home every day, but unlike most men in his position, he didn’t cheat, but instead made up this...this fantasy world where I’m the world’s worst wife, one he constantly wants to ‘upgrade’ to a newer, better-looking model.

“He throws himself into his work, which is admirable, I guess, and comes home fed up most of the time. He finds any excuse he can to berate me, to cut me down, to make sure I  _ know _ I’m nothing without him. It...It worked. 14 years, I’ve stayed. Out of loyalty, guilt, a sense of debt, whatever you want to call it. 14 years with a man I did everything in my power to love. A man who doesn’t love me back.”

By the time she was finished, Layla was blinking back tears, an embarrassed laugh escaping her as she reached for a napkin and dabbed at her eyes, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. That’s a lot for a second-first date,” she joked, keeping her gaze away from Ray, Layla knowing that if she looked she would be a mess of tears all over again; even from her peripheral vision, she could see how horrified and concerned he looked. What she hadn’t banked on was the sudden movement, the blur of motion as Ray slipped out of his side of the booth and slid into hers, wrapping her up tightly, his own breathing far more erratic than the quick maneuver should have left him. It wasn’t until he spoke that Layla realized Ray was  _ mad _ .

“I’m sorry you’ve been living with a nightmare all these years. You’re far stronger than you give yourself credit for, putting up with all that, especially with no family to fall back on, vent to, none of that. I’m sorry he’s hurt you like that. It isn’t right and you shouldn’t have to put up with another minute of it. You’re better than he’ll ever be. Ever, Layla.”

Eyes shut tightly against the soft fabric of his hoodie, Layla did everything she could to keep herself composed, allowing herself another glimmer of hope in the words Ray spoke into the crown of her head.

* * *

After their burgers, Ray and Layla found themselves looking around, trying to decide on where to go next. The night was still young and the two were still riding the wave of euphoria that came from their earlier meeting in the hotel despite the speed bump that the talk of her marriage had caused. Ray’s eyes lit up with impish excitement as he turned to face her, taking both of Layla’s hands in his.

“What if I told you there was a museum just down the block that you’ve probably never been to before?” He asked, one eyebrow quirked up in amusement, Ray clearly testing Layla’s knowledge of the arts. Logically, Layla knew she hadn’t been to  _ every _ museum in New York, but she couldn’t resist giving Ray a challenge.

“I’d tell you that it must be a pop-up, ‘cause I’ve seen them all,” she fibbed, her face making it clear she couldn’t tell a lie if her life depended on it, at least not when it came to art. Sure, she considered herself cultured and well-versed in the art that was held in the city, but with five boroughs, it was hard to keep up.

Ray saw right through the facade and grabbed her up in another bear hug, laughing with a deep rumble in his chest before he peppered her face with kisses that made her squeal. As was becoming the case more and more often with him, she forgot about time and her surroundings under the veil of his affection, indulging in the romance she’d so longed for with Howard, but had never once truly received. Even as Ray shifted to bring her in to his side and begin walking them towards the museum, Layla couldn’t help but keep her eyes closed in utter bliss.

Layla couldn’t stop the snort of a laugh that came out of her when, after a block, Ray rounded the corner and stopped squarely in front of the Museum of Sex, one of the city’s racier attractions. Looking up at him, something overtook her and Layla’s hand swooped back, spanking Ray squarely on his left cheek, a gesture that earned her a look of pleased surprise from her tall date.

“Naughty, naughty, naughty,” she smirked, shaking her head, Layla’s tongue firmly in cheek as she walked ahead of him to the box office. Without hesitation, she bought two tickets (cash) for a full tour, knowing full well the museum would cap their night off in the perfect way.

Layla curled up against Ray’s side once more as they walked through the double doors that led into the first exhibit, her smile bashful and hidden as they were immediately confronted with men and women from the early 1900’s in poses far more graphic than what the period norms suggested. Her hand, which had been splayed flat against Ray’s stomach, clenched a little in arousal as they stopped in front of silent movie depicting a man and a woman having a torrid romp in a field, nothing censored or held back about their lovemaking. Layla couldn’t help the soft, wet kiss she pressed to Ray’s throat, unsurprised when she got one back at nearly the same time, Ray dipping his head the opposite way to land one on the underside of her jaw.

Keeping things discreet as they moved to the next exhibit--a visual explosion of video and actual homemade sex toys--Layla was barely paying attention to the woman riding a dildo bike on the screen. Rather, her attention was on Ray. His warmth, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, and the hunger she felt radiating off him for something other than what they’d just had for dinner all combined to form a heady mix that had Layla fighting to keep her hands off Ray while they were still in public. She knew he was having the same issue when his hand grazed her ass, sliding around to cup her hip at the last minute, Ray’s voice low and dripping with desire when he spoke in her ear.

“One more exhibit, then I’m taking you back to my place and we’re gonna do things they only  _ wish _ they could put in a museum,” he warned, the command and confidence in his voice enough to make her gasp, Layla feeling that still-new warmth grow quickly between her legs. She had to clap a hand over her mouth when Ray nipped at her earlobe, the move sending a zap of electricity straight down Layla’s spine, causing her to arch into him and let out a muffled squeak of need. Ray chuckled softly, keeping her close as they moved to the small museum’s last full exhibit. The focus on the movie  _ Caligula _ did little to help either Layla or Ray keep their hands to themselves, and as the orgy scene played on one wall, Layla found herself pushing Ray against it, kissing him deeply. She was glad they were the only ones in the particular exhibit, as the last thing she wanted was an audience. It was one thing to imagine someone watching her and Ray fuck in a penthouse, but to have someone watching up close and personal, was too much for Layla to handle despite her quickly-broadening horizons.

They barely paid attention to the last exhibit, Ray instead taking her hand and leading the pair in a beeline back to the street. As he did nearly every day, Ray quickly dialed for a Towncar, making sure that the one that came had a privacy screen, a request he’d never made before. The operator took the information and before long, the request was fulfilled, the car pulling up and the driver hopping out to help them into the back seat.

Ray wasted no time in throwing up the partition and turning up the music, not realizing what song was playing and just how perfect it was for the moment. Layla held back her smirk, keeping the knowledge to herself as the car pulled away from the curb and the neon lights of the city began to blur into the darkness, creating a perfect little bubble for her and Ray.

Licking her lips, she held down the intercom button, her voice hoarse when she spoke. “Driver, take the long way to his place, please.” As she spoke, her eyes locked with Ray’s the hunger between them palpable. Layla waited only a moment before moving to sit in Ray’s lap, her lips devouring his hungrily as the car made its way through the city streets.

By the time they reached Ray’s building--an imposing tower overlooking Central Park--steam had fogged up the back window of the car, both Layla and Ray more than ready to move the night somewhere a little more private. With the car in park, Ray made sure they were both presentable before letting the partition come down so he could tip their driver. They’d kept it clean, neither wanting to give the man an unplanned trip to the detailer’s on their account.

When they got into the private elevator, it was Layla who used all her strength to push Ray against the mirrored wall, her hands capturing his face as she went in for another kiss, squealing in delight when he single-handedly brought her up to his level, Layla’s legs wrapping easily around his hips.

Ray held on to the top of  [ the elevator ](https://imgur.com/le8xwWe.png) when it opened and he walked them out, his hold on Layla strong as he kicked off his shoes and yanked off her sneakers while making his way to his bedroom. There’d be time for the official tour later; now, they both had much more important things to do and taking in the subtle details of the interior design weren’t it.

In a move that surprised and delighted Ray, Layla hopped down and pushed him onto the bed, her gaze making it clear that she was taking the reins, at least for this round. He knew arousal when he saw it and Layla was nearly boiling over with it; she wore it well and it turned him on even more to see her taking control of her desire.

“You have five seconds to take your clothes off, Ray.” His chuckle was cut short when she began to count, Ray’s breathing increasing as he sat up a bit and all but tore his clothes off, watching between slips of fabric as Layla did the same. By one, they were both naked and with a lick of her lips, Layla moved forward, looking every inch an exotic cat as she closed the gap between them.

Layla skipped the foreplay entirely, wanting to feel him inside, wanting that aching friction that drove them both mad. Climbing onto his hips, she kept her eyes on his as she lined him up and slowly sank her hips down. Ray’s look of utter lust was all she needed to see before his large hand cupped her face and pulled her into a deep, desperate kiss.

Knowing she wouldn’t be taken but would be  _ doing _ the taking this time, Ray resisted the urge to flip them over, letting Layla set the pace instead, thrilled when she moved hard and fast down his length. Whatever had flicked her switch at the museum Ray was grateful for it, loving the peek into this new, powerful side of her, one he’d gladly coax out as often as need be if she let him.

He bent his knees for her as she leaned back, giving her a backrest and an angle that hit all the right spots. Hands sliding up the front of her body, Ray watched Layla’s breath quicken, heard her moans grow louder and felt her walls clamp tighter and tighter around him with each thrust. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed and Ray was reticent to even cant his hips up, wanting Layla to own her orgasm from start to finish. Still, towards the end, he couldn’t help the involuntary bowing of his back as her movements, her body, brought him pleasures innumerable.

With a shuddering inhale and eyes wide in shock, Ray came harder than he’d ever cum before, moaning as Layla’s own orgasm threw her over the cliff right alongside him. Both found each other trembling and jolting as Layla collapsed on top of Ray, her smile ear-to-ear. Ray was speechless as he continued to fill her, his hips snapping of their own volition, each thrust upward eliciting a shock of pleasure through Layla’s own body.

“That’s it, handsome. Every last drop,” she purred, Ray’s eyes rolling back into his skull as he let her milk the last of his cum from him, his chest heaving against her breasts, both he and Layla coated in sweat, a beautiful mess from head to toe.

Neither thought to Monday, when life as they knew it would regress back to its original state. As they caught their breath, they thought only of the next orgasm of the next surge of pleasure they’d bring one another. The dread of having to separate was abated as Ray rolled them onto their sides and began to roll his hips deep, making it clear they was nowhere near done.  The sound of joy he earned from Layla made it clear she agreed wholeheartedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured I'd start the year off right give y'all an update. 
> 
> If you don't know what song comes on in the Towncar, just google the lyrics 'driver put up the partition please' (it's the slower version...The one attached to that ONE movie...*shifty eyes*)
> 
> If you're reading, just know I LOVE your comments even more than your kudos and I devour them as soon as I get notified. Keep 'em coming!

**Author's Note:**

> This one's gonna be long, folks. Strap in for the ride!


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